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Write a story where flowers play a central role.

Posted in Spring on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 278 stories

Hades

Submitted to Contest #86

The time could not possibly move quick enough. Every day dragged on, and on, and on. No sun, no light, nothing but the agony of the Pit and the same movement of shades passing by. Things were so unchangingly monotone, and it made him wonder how he’d ever gotten by without knowing anything else. How had he stayed under, twisting steel and bone into an empire? How had he not known what lay above him, just over the red-hot fury of the earth’s core? It occurred to him that he had known, he just never did anything about it. The very thought ma...

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Floral Eyes

Submitted to Contest #86

“The flowers are really pretty,” a customer commented while walking by the counter. Loir nodded as she bundled up the last of her orders with a bright pink ribbon. February was always the busiest time for the shop, but that just meant more time that she could work. She sucked in a breath as she pricked her finger on one of the thorns that the white rose had. She wiped her bleeding finger on her pants as she set the bouquet down. Stretching, she grabbed her phone from her pocket, turning on the display. No new messages. Not unusual. She sighe...

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

Submitted to Contest #86

In a field of poppies, I lie in wait. Blinking the warm afternoon sun out of my eyes, a stray breeze kisses a shiver into my skin. In the dawning of spring, I twirl a leaf between my fingers, one of many; it is emerald and bold. Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. From my leatherbound notebook, I pull out a pressed carnation. Its pink petals are sun-soaked and radiant. There is no place else in the world I would rather be―only there is, with her.I am a child dancing in the greenhouse. My father, one of the Mavis Country Es...

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Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Genus, Species

Submitted to Contest #86

He found his gloves, hat, knee pads and tools, so he was ready to get to work. The garden was still thawing out with large patches of snow melting in the fresh sunlight and water draining out in the pipes and gutters he had built when he moved in. The sun kept things going in these times. The heat was growing in his back and head, sweat forming a small river; a wet animal feeling was heading down his spine, and the damp earth providing some cooling and chilling climate for his work.“Uncle Dave?”He turned on his knees, seeing his ne...

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Flowers hidden in the mist

Submitted to Contest #86

Journal of Sir Edmond Starlidge the 5th,  Duke of Carthingston.August 4th 1832Even though I am here, I believe my eyes are playing tricks on me. I undertook this exposition as a lark, out of boredom. I didn’t believe the legend of the citadel of flowers. It was suppose to be a tropical oasis shrouded in the mist, deep in the cavern of a glacier. But my dear friend Rupert believed and was going, despite being told he was a fool. So I went with him. Now here I stand, in the middle of a glacier, staring at a lush ...

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The Storm Flowers

Submitted to Contest #86

I woke up to the sound of an almighty crash on the roof above my head. It was dark in my attic bedroom, but I remember narrowing my eyes and straining my ears. There’s another loud crack. It’s a metallic impact that can only be a car. An alarm sounds down in the street. I hear two distant warning shouts. There’s a second heavy thud overhead, followed by a tsunami of explosions. I can’t hear individual impacts as they are lost in the deluge. I scramble out of bed, stumble to the window and draw back the curtains. Apple-sized hailstones a...

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Flowers for Freddy

Submitted to Contest #86

When Freddy Hayward was killed, everyone was deeply shocked. After all, the snatching of a young and healthy life is just something that shouldn’t happen in the order of things. But mingled in with this was a sensation that somehow, people had known he would die young. Freddy was what people sometimes called a loveable rogue, which is one of those phrases that means everything and nothing. His surname was too much of a gift and he had obtained, in some quarters, the nickname of Wayward Hayward, but it was said, at least most of the time, wit...

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my red rose.

Submitted to Contest #86

My mother used to say every child was a bud, waiting to blossom, waiting for those delicate little petals to peek every so slightly through the young leaves of our youth.  We all wander a world of marigold petals and mint, asphodel and the curled yellow petals of birdsfoot trefoil. We roam a garden full of the thorns that are suspicion and grief, dried white roses crinkling underfoot in a trail of everlasting sorrow. Their fallen, pale veils tell the story of happiness long gone, buried in the dirt under layers of crumbling leaves and...

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Petals

Submitted to Contest #86

The jianghu* is big, and there is plenty to see. Two souls seated in a passing cart whose canopies touch as the horses trot by, smile with a song known since time began, yet others grow white on their heads, with no melody shared within. What use is there in many years shared in pointless chatter when a single moment of silence can contain multitudes? We promised to make every moment count, and I think that we have.Fei Hong sits by the riverside, not caring that the hem of his emerald robes are getting soiled with not just the water but also...

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The Meadow of the Lost

Submitted to Contest #86

It was the day after the March equinox, marking the Spring season. The first freaking day of Spring and there is already a case of a missing person. I heard the call myself. A frantic man calling to report that his wife was gone. He began rambling on and on, fast and frightened the words all came out. Ellie, the emergency dispatcher, gives me a glance.  “Sir, sir, I need you to calm down. Talk slower for me?” Her voice is cool and collected. I marveled on how she could do this all day. Channel all of these frantic voices and urge them t...

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Her

Submitted to Contest #86

Her. He couldn’t remember much about her. What he could remember was…A daisy. He gave her a daisy that day. She was crying on the kindergarten swing, her father had forgotten to pick her up again. Too busy, he recalls. Her face were wet with tears by the time she noticed him handing her a daisy. Eyes wide staring at the embarrassed boy. Delicate hands received the delicate offer of friendship. She smiled at him and he remembers it being the warmest glow he had ever seen. Far brighter than the ripened sun behind them.Little does he know.A sun...

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Resurrection

Submitted to Contest #86

“The joys of parents are secret; so are their griefs and fears.”   Francis Bacon            In early June of 1956, when he was 24 years old, my father was electrocuted. As a lineman for the Western Pennsylvania Power Company, he was installing electricity to a new retail grocery store. The fingers of his right hand brushed against a high voltage line which was supposed to be dead. Fourteen hundred volts coursed through his body in an instant and the shock of electrical cu...

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Neroli

Submitted to Contest #86

The Queen of the Arab world did not know how to sire a son and so, the women of the harem tried to help. A woman was summoned to teach her how to fish for a son, in the middle of the desert, in a castle built of mud, clay, silt and desire. The King, a caliphate married her out of season. A Queen from the isle of the blue Grecian sea. She was considered neither beautiful nor had the wits to seduce her husband. And yet she had one thing about her, the knowledge she was to be killed and replaced if she were unable to bring on a son. For that sh...

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The Flower Girls

Submitted to Contest #86

The Flower GirlsA short storyBy: Emma KateAuthor’s Note: So, this is my official fourth submission because the other one never got approved, I hope this one gets approved. So, I am literally supposed to write five stories! And all of them are long, chapter stories, my blog link will be on my bio, feel free to check it out and leave feedback! Part 1:Lavender stood in the middle of the ‘Floral woods’, it was a colourful and bright ‘forest’ with flowers surrounding it. She tied her charming light brown hair into a neat ponytail.“Rose!” she call...

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FLOWERS FOR THE SOUL by Robin Simon

Submitted to Contest #86

Can you imagine the joy that I get when flowers start to bloom and the fragrance that it gives the world as we come out of a winters covering of part of the world. I try to understand the soul that God has given to all the beauty that flowers behold and as for myself the story that they hold.We can't imagine what each petal represent as each look the same but as we all have something unique and different about us. Each flower holds a DNA of its own.And as it grows it may change, giving each of us a choice of witch one represents what we may ...

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